


the physicality of heroism

by qrovers



Series: advanced identity reveals (the spider-man au) [1]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, can be both platonic n romantic, i wrote this in one sitting, spiderman troy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrovers/pseuds/qrovers
Summary: Here’s the scene: Spider-Man, clutching his side with one hand and holding a plastic bag in another, is staggering through an alleyway in the dead of night.In where Troy Barnes is Spider-Man.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Series: advanced identity reveals (the spider-man au) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817263
Comments: 20
Kudos: 150





	the physicality of heroism

**Author's Note:**

> i will proofread this later its currently 1 am lmao

Here’s the scene: Spider-Man, clutching his side with one hand and holding a plastic bag in another, is staggering through an alleyway in the dead of night. 

_ Just a few more steps _ , Troy thinks. Just turn a corner and climb at least 2 stories without being seen by anyone and then you’ll be home. That's easy. 

Or, it would be easy, if he wasn't bleeding out of a stab wound right now. 

It was stupid, because he does a lot of stupid things, and he does stupid things because he has superpowers. Sometimes his brain thinks more about protecting other people than it does about survival skills. But he thought he could help this old lady from getting robbed by fighting 5 guys at once, sue him. He doesn't even get why they'd need 5 guys for an old lady, or why one of them has  _ really advanced  _ alien tech. Was the old lady actually evil? That's concerning. 

Troy shakes his head.  _ Focus _ , because every second he limps it getting harder and harder to, and passing out on the sidewalk is less than ideal. 

He staggers to the side of their apartment building. He leans back on the wall and huffs out a breath, releasing the grip on his side to examine the wound.

Oh.  _ Ew _ . Not good. 

But the only thing worse than this would be if someone sees him, you know actual  _ Spider-Man _ , bleeding out, takes a picture and posts it online for it to (inevitably) become viral. With that thought, Troy slips the plastic bag in his arm and starts climbing up to their apartment. 

He always leaves the window to the Dreamatorium unlocked, whenever he needs a quick entrance. He makes a mental note to pat himself on the back for his forward thinking, Annie would be proud. 

He slips in with more pain than noise. It's not as graceful as he intends, but it's gentle enough that he falls silently on the floor.

It's dark. If he had to guess, it's probably around 3 am.  _ Witching Hour _ , or some other horror movie reference. Abed would know, Troy’s too tired to think. He closes his eyes, an overwhelming want to sleep almost takes over him before he can think better. 

The Dreamatorium’s floor, as cold as it is, brings him a bit of comfort. He stays there, unmoving for a few moments, trying to ignore the throbbing pain on his side, before he realizes someone’s there with him. 

He hears a light switch click open. His eyes snap open and he makes an attempt to sit up, before wincing at the pain and groaning. 

He hears, “Spider-Man?” and sighs. He doesn't need to look to know who the voice belongs to. 

_ Shit. _

“Hey, Abed,” he says, pulling his mask off in an attempt to get some air. He stays on the ground, though. It feels like the softest mattress right now.

“ _ Troy,”  _ There's something new in his voice, a deep concern Troy once wished he never has to hear. “You're hurt.”

“What are you doing up?” Troy asks, trying to search his foggy memories for something that happened this morning, “Aren’t you sick?”

“That's not relevant,”

“Um,  _ yes, it is _ ,” Troy argues. Through the pain, he remembers frowning at a thermometer and telling Abed to stay in bed as he goes out and buys medicine. That was about two hours ago. He lifts the plastic bag looped around his arm. He tries to be cheery when he says, “Got you this,”

“You're  _ hurt _ ,” Abed says, a bit more forceful this time.

“I’ll heal,”

“Not like that,” he replies, “Not on the floor,”

“ _ Why are you up? _ ” Troy tries to sit up again, gentler this time, with his arm supporting most of his weight as he twists to see Abed, whose eyebrows are furrowed the way they do when he overthinks. Troy wants to poke his forehead, to get a sense of what he's thinking. 

Abed hesitates, before saying with a strong hint of finality, “Annie keeps the medical stuff in the bathroom,”

#

Troy’s more scraped up than he realizes, as he sits on the edge of the bathtub as Abed tries to stitch his wound up using a YouTube video tutorial. 

“You're really good at this,” Troy compliments.

Abed shrugs, “Annie would be a better candidate,”

Troy shakes his head, “I’m glad it's you,”

When he finishes, Troy says, “Please go to bed,”

But, ever stubborn, he shakes his head and takes the secret stash of candy cigarettes from under the sink before sitting right next to Troy.

He offers one, Troy takes it with a quiet thank you.

Up close, Abed looks more tired than he lets on. His hair is messy. There are bags under his eyes, along with a strong, but unwelcomed feeling of vindication. Sometimes Troy wishes he could drag his thumb over the dark circles and just wipe the tiredness away. 

He does that right now, even though he knows it’ll still be there. Abed’s skin is feverish to the touch. 

“Hey,” Troy lightly taps Abed’s shoulder as he gets the bag of medicine he dropped in the bathtub. He takes out a bottle of Tylenol and just holds it out. “Take some,”

“I’m fine, Troy,”

“No, c’mon,” he pleads, “I already feel bad about making you stitch me up when you're sick.”

With a bit of hesitation, he nods and takes the bottle.

There's a silence that happens right before you address the elephant in the room. It always makes Troy’s stomach sink, so he tries to fill it before it starts. 

“Did you know?”

Immediately, “Yes.”

Troy looks down at his shoes. He’s changed to cleaner, less bloodier clothes now. His shirt’s Abed’s.

He’s not really surprised Abed knew. He’s always been more observant than most. Maybe it was wishful thinking that he'd somehow ignore all the glaring details that point _masked vigilante_ to Troy.

“I’m sorry I didn't tell you,” Troy says, running a hand through his hair, “I just—I didn't want to put you in danger,”

Abed nods, “Don't worry,” a pause, “I know why you’d keep this from me. Classic superhero cliche, protecting your loved ones.”

Troy smiles, “Yeah, but I’m still sorry though,”

“It's okay,”

They stay side by side for a while, just soaking in each other's presence comfortably. It's nice, when everything’s still and calm for once, when Troy doesn't have to think too hard about too many things. He puts his head on Abed’s shoulder and closes his eyes, slinking his hand into Abed’s. It’s hot. 

Troy’s eyebrows furrow on their own. “We should get you to bed, it's getting late.”

#

Troy feels guilty when Abed has to help him walk to the blanket fort. He keeps insisting (lying) that he's  _ fine _ but Abed can see through his bullshit with no second thought. He has an arm snaked around Troy’s hips and Troy has to balance himself with his arm around Abed’s shoulders. 

When they get to the fort, Abed says, “You should take the bottom for tonight, I doubt you can climb up the ladder anyway.” 

“No, it's okay,” he says, “I’m already healing,”

But Abed shakes his head.

Troy doesn't have enough energy to argue any further, so he slips into the bottom bunk with a grunt and curls up in a position comfortable enough for his healing wound. 

He closes his eyes, hears the silence, but after a while, opens them again to find that Abed is standing next to him, worry etched on his face like a stamp. 

“Abed,” he says, softly, “What are you thinking about?”

But all he does is hum in response. 

“You don't have to watch me, you know? I’m literally Spider-Man.”

But Abed doesn't move, and Troy's eyes soften. He scoots a bit more to the wall until he feels his back hit it. He smiles and pats the space in front of him. 

The words left unsaid are  _ I want you to be safe too _ .

A beat. 

Abed starts climbing beside him. They face the wall, his arms finding themselves wrapped around Troy’s torso. Abed tightens it ever so slightly, not enough that it hurts, but enough to say that he's there.

Troy's eyes flutter close. 

He hears Abed say, “I love you,”

And, without a second passing, Troy responds with, “I love you too,”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading!! follow me on twit @/trobedcult :D


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